


Rewrite the Stars

by Irishgurl15



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dark Hermione Granger, Death Eaters, F/M, Gen, Insanity, Mental Instability, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Hermione Granger, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Slytherin Hermione Granger, Time Travelling Draco Malfoy, Time Travelling Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irishgurl15/pseuds/Irishgurl15
Summary: With only one chance, Hermione and Draco travel back to 1973 with the intent to kill Voldemort. However, with Hermione's newfound heritage and still struggling from the war, she's gone down a dark path, and it may be too late for her to be saved. How can she save the wizarding world when she can barely hold on to herself?
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Draco Malfoy & Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger/Rabastan Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Regulus Black/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 25
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is a new story I decided to post. I'm still going to be working on Unbroken, and I already have a few chapters of this written that I decided to post. This story is dark and takes place post-war and in the past. This is NOT the canon Hermione and Draco, I want to be clear right now. There will be a major character death, scenes of torture, sexual content, and PTSD. If you do not feel comfortable reading than I suggest you turn away. This is going to be posted on AO3 for now and later I may post it to my account on fanfic.net: Readqueen15. 
> 
> I also love reviews and will update more frequently, the more you do! 
> 
> AU- Harry Potter fic.

**Chapter 1:**

Hermione did not look up from the ground. She was curled on the couch, her arms tightly wound around her knees that pressed against her chest. Her chocolate brown eyes lacked the warmth that she once exuberated as she stared off into space. Her dark frizzy hair had fallen limp against her pale face, giving off the look that screamed she was slightly unstable. 

She did not answer the Mind Healer’s question nor did she make any move to do so. 

The Mind Healer sighed, not surprised by her behavior. It had been a year since she was rescued and though known as the Brightest Witch of her generation, even Hermione Granger had a breaking point. 

Most war victims were broken beyond repair, rarely able to be saved. After a certain number of crucios, your mind gave up on you and were left a blubbering mess, so it was a miracle how Hermione was still sitting upright, not crazed out of her mind. 

She continued to stare at the ground, her eyes focused on the white rug while the Mind Healer’s voice echoed in the back of her brain. She closed her eyes as a storm raged at the front of her mind, pounding against her skull wanting to be released from its illusionary cage, wanting to wreak havoc on those around. 

A single tear fell from her eye, as she remembered the sound of Her soprano voice that she used to detest. Her voice was all she thought about and in a sick way, she had come to miss it. 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk.” the Mind Healer said, understandingly. “We can continue the session tomorrow.” 

Hermione didn’t want to come back tomorrow. She didn’t want to come yesterday. She didn’t want to come today. But the bloody ministry demanded it. They wanted the Brightest Witch of their generation back but they didn’t know she was dead.

Hermione Granger was never coming back. 

The Mind Healer stood up and opened the door of the cozy office, calling for the others in the receptionist area. Harry and Ginny appeared a moment later unable to hide their pitying stares. 

“Are you ready to go, Mione?” 

Her stomach churned, unable to stare at her dark-haired best friend. She rose to her feet, clumsily, ignoring his outstretched hand. She stood next to Ginny at an appropriate distance away, not wanting to get too close. 

_Blood traitor._ Her mind hissed. 

Immediately her face heated up, ashamed for her thoughts, ashamed for her red-haired best friend. She left the room without so much as a goodbye. Hermione knew they wouldn’t be far behind. It happened every time and each time she was softly admonished. 

As if talking down to her, made any difference. She was traumatized not mentally incapacitated, but everyone seemed to think the latter. 

Running outside from the fourth floor, she ran away from St. Mungo’s, ignoring the looks of passersby. Her feet moved at their own accord, weaving her away around the shocked muggles. 

“Hermione!” a voice shouted. She turned around to see Ginny and Harry running to catch up with her. 

But she didn’t stop. 

_No, not this time._

She wanted to be alone. She was never alone. She wanted to hear the voice in her mind that made her life a living hell. 

She wanted to feel Her presence. 

She didn’t want to be alone. 

Did that make her a sick person? 

**ooOoo**

They found her. 

Giving the bartender a nasty glare, she knew it was him that gave her away. Hermione sat in a booth at the back of the Leaky Cauldron, hidden away from view, nursing a pint of Firewhisky. It was her preferred choice of drink these days. 

“We were worried sick.” Ginny released a nervous breathe, sliding into the booth across from her while Harry ordered a glass of water. 

There was no way to get undrunk. He should know that by now. 

Hermione scowled, slamming down the glass on the rickety old table. “I’m fine.” she hissed. “I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“You’re not well,” she said. “Besides, you can’t just disappear. You don’t know what it does to us… what the last time did.” 

“It’s not like the last time. The war is over.” 

“Is it?” Ginny prodded, staring at her mess of a friend. “It’s been over a year, Mione and you’ve yet to say one word to Daphne. She’s your Mind Healer, you’ve got to trust her.” 

Hermione did trust the blonde girl. Daphne Greengrass was an exceptional Mind Healer who had worked miracles on those thought impossible of being saved. But there were some secrets that were meant to stay secret. No doubt Daphne would judge her and they’d all abandon her. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” Ginny muttered, glancing across the pub at Harry who was being chatted up by Seamus Finnigan. “but if you don’t start cooperating then you’re going to be committed to St. Mungos. We can’t continue doing this Hermione, we understand that you’re struggling, we all are but at some point, you have to move forward. You’ve got to accept help. There’s no shame in needing some.” 

She let the weight of her words sink in, knowing that there was no way out of this. Molly and Arthur Weasley had been appointed her temporary guardians despite her being of age. She was deemed mentally unfit to live alone and make decisions for herself which had been a low blow. 

Everyone was struggling but they chose to single her out. 

Her wand had been confiscated after the last incident. But she didn’t care. There was only one thing she did care about and that was Her. 

She wanted Her back. 

She just didn’t know how she was going to do that. 

“Hermione…?” 

She looked up at Ginny, noticing Harry with them for the first time. He had placed a glass of water in front of her, the Firewhisky gone. 

Hermione didn’t hold back the glare. 

_Half-blood scum!_

“Drink the water and we can take you home.” 

She resisted the urge to growl at his condescending tone. 

She had no home. 

Harry cast Muffliato, muting their conversation to unaware patrons around them. 

“We don’t want to cause a scene.” Ginny urgently whispered. “Please just do this for us.” 

_Did she think saying, pretty please would work?_

Hermione shook her head, prepared with a retort when suddenly the chatter quieted down. Looking up, seeing him for the first time in a year, Draco Malfoy stood in the flesh still looking as aristocratic as before with his smoothed back white-blonde hair, finely tailored robes, and glare stuck on his face. 

_I’m sorry._ He whispered through a strangled voice. _“I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”_

She abruptly stood up, the glass crashing to the ground in the process, frozen in shock. Grey eyes met her brown and before she could do anything, he stormed away. 

The three of them quickly apparated back to The Burrow where Hermione dissolved into a blubbering mess, unable to shake the blonde-haired man from her mind. He was bigger since she last saw him but just as serious. 

Hermione hadn’t seen Draco since the rescue. She had assumed the Aurors arrested him just like his father. He was a marked Death Eater, yes against his will, but still marked. That was enough evidence for the ministry. 

She had tuned out all news surrounding the Malfoy family the past year. Nobody would listen to the mentally unstable girl, she was sure. Besides, why would the muggle-born best friend of the Golden Trio stick up for one of the Dark Lords' most prominent supporters? 

It would have raised even more questions that she wasn’t willing to answer. 

But apparently, somebody had defended him because he should’ve been rotting away in Azkaban with his father but there he had stood with his chin held up high. 

“I’m sorry, Mione,” Harry whispered sitting down beside her on the brown lumpy couch. “We should’ve told you but we didn’t want to worry you.” 

She stared up at him with questioning eyes as Ginny shifted uncomfortably beside her. Placing a hand on her knee, she said, “Narcissa Malfoy saved Harry the night Voldemort-” 

Hermione flinched. 

“-fell. The night you were rescued was because of his mother. We know you were tortured in his home but Harry was in debt. Mrs. Malfoy protected him so he had to protect her son, no matter what a rightful prick he is.” Ginny chided. 

“We understand if you’re angry… please don’t cry, Mione.” he pleaded with her as tears welled up in her eyes. She sniffled and they tumbled down her cheeks flowing at an alarming rate. Her shoulders shook with what was perceived as fear but suddenly she launched herself at Harry. Her arms tightly wound around his neck as she mumbled over and over again, _“thank you.”_

**ooOoo**

Hermione took a hot shower for the first time in three days. The water turned a murky brown revealing her milky white, almost translucent skin underneath. She scrubbed her skin raw with the rough cloth trying to rub away what was not there. 

Mrs. Weasley had basically forced her into the bathroom, saying she needed to get her act together and that she wasn’t going to allow her to turn into a hermit. 

Ever since Fred’s death in the final Battle and Ginny and George moving out, she focused all her attention on Hermione, smothering her with the motherly love she was known for giving out. 

But Hermione didn’t want to be smothered. She didn’t want to be coddled and treated like a broken china doll. 

She laid in bed, having skipped dinner for the second night in a row, listening to the conversation on the first floor. 

“She freaked out when she saw Malfoy today. I thought because of what happened during the war she would be afraid but after…” Ginny was at a loss for words. 

“She was almost grateful.” Harry finished. “Almost like she cared for him.” 

“That doesn’t make sense!” Mrs. Weasley tried to dismiss what she was hearing. “The Malfoys? That family is as dark as they get and wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a muggle-born like her-” 

“There’s still a lot we don’t know.” Mr. Weasley cut them off abruptly. “She was held prisoner for over a month, anything could have happened during that time. We can’t judge her until we know the whole truth.” 

“Could it be Stockholm Syndrome?” 

“What?” the Weasley’s all spoke up at the same time. 

“A muggle disorder.” Harry breathed. “The victim falls for their captor after depending on them for so long for their basic needs to survive.” 

“Merlin, that’s fascinating!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed. “I’ve got to do some more research into this muggle disease.” 

“Malfoy may be a git but I can’t see him harming her. Perhaps it was his crazed aunt, you know what she did to her,” said Ginny. 

Shivers went down her spine as she closed her eyes, remembering the deranged look in the dark witch’s eyes. The wand pointed at her and a spasm of excruciating mind-numbing pain spread throughout her body. 

She screamed. 

Draco stood next to his parents, face stoic and jaw clenched. His hands formed into fists by his side, his knuckles white. 

_“CRUCIO!”_

She wanted to die. 

_“CRUCIO!”_

_The woman was cackling mad when suddenly Harry and Ron rose from the dungeon with Dobby._

_“Harry! Ron!” she screamed her voice raw, sprawled out on the ground, a pool of blood surrounded her. She was too weak to get up. They had to escape or else they’d die._

_It was too late for her._

“Hermione!” 

She was trapped. Hermione began to struggle, a scream rose in her throat. 

“You’re ok!” her voice was familiar. “It’s us, Mione! You’re at The Burrow. You’re in my old bedroom. The war is over. You are safe…” 

The fight left her body as she let out an exhausted sob and collapsed back against the bed. She opened her eyes to find herself entrapped in Ginny's arms with Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing further back. 

She was safe. 

_No, she wasn’t._

She couldn’t make up her mind.

“Mud-bloods…. Mud-blood scum! Blood TRAITORS! FILTHY HALF-BLOODS!” her voice anxiously rose, shoving Ginny away, murderously glaring at them all. 

Hiding her head in her knees, she felt the tips of her fingers begin to tingle as an overwhelming feeling of warmth spread throughout her body becoming hotter and hotter. That’s the last thing she remembered before it all went to hell. 

**ooOoo**

She heard the unlocking of the door before the Healer’s actual voice. “You have a visitor, Hermione,” she said. 

It had been the same every day for the past month. Ginny or Harry or Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would attempt to get her to talk only to fail. 

The rest of the time she spent locked up in this room, forced to take potions that did, _god- knows- what,_ but what she did know was that she hadn’t felt even a tingle of magic since she had been admitted to the Janus Thickey Ward, the fourth floor of St. Mungos. 

Ginny said she would end up here but she didn’t think she was serious. She wanted to burn the girl alive. Just like She had done to her. 

“Half-blood.” she sneered. 

The Healer sighed, used to the comments by now. “It’s not the Weasley’s nor Mr. Potter.”

That caught her attention. She turned around, glaring suspiciously at the dark-haired woman. She had no one but them, everyone else had given up on her. 

“Who is it?” she demanded, her eyes flashed darkly. 

The Healer didn’t have a chance to respond because a moment later the visitor walked through the door. Dressed in the finest robes money could buy and blonde hair pulled half-up, she looked every bit as regal as Hermione remembered. 

“Ms. Granger.” her voice was smooth and emotionless revealing nothing. She gave a small head nod, her blue eyes contained a silent greeting. 

Her name was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The woman’s very presence consumed the room almost making it impossible to focus on anything but her. 

“Leave us,” she ordered not even turning to look at the Healer. With her chin held up high, the only person she acknowledged in the room was Hermione, acting as if Healer Bradshaw was just a speck of dirt on the floor. 

“Mrs. Malfoy-” 

“Did I misspeak?” she coldly spoke, never losing her temper. “I agreed to your rules now you must abide by mine.” 

Healer Bradshaw’s face turned a harsh pink, muttering apologies before exiting the room, the lock clicking shut in place. 

They were alone. 

Hermione slowly uncurled from her ball, allowing Narcissa to sit down beside her. 

“Half-blood.” Hermione spat at where Healer Bradshaw just stood. “Filthy…filthy half-blood.” 

“Yes…” Narcissa hummed, smoothing out Hermione’s frizzy hair with calming strokes. “Filthy half-blood.” 

Hermione smiled. _Someone agreed with her._

The Healers thought her rantings were the final straw and her mind truly had broken. When she was first rescued, the cruciatus curse was found to have initially been used on her body more than twenty times at various lengths. 

But Daphne Greengrass didn’t want to give up on her new patient so quickly. She saw there was more wanting to come out. Hermione wasn’t as crazy as she seemed, she could see it in her eyes. 

“Green suits you. I don’t think you could’ve pulled off the red gown,” she commented. “Gryffindor or not, you’re a Slytherin at heart.” 

The corners of Hermione’s pink lips lifted just the tiniest bit. Narcissa could see the beginnings of a smile and based on her medical report, this was the first emotion she’d shown in a while other than anger. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the thin hospital gown, desperately wanting to be back in her soft pajamas. 

“I didn’t think the hospital would let me near you at first, considering how many times they’ve turned Draco away.” 

Her head popped up at the sound of his name. 

“You don’t know how badly I wish I could take you home where you can be cared for by our own proper Healers. You shouldn’t have to be locked up in this place.” 

It was a small room with just a twin-sized. The mattress was hard and uncomfortable, reminding her of the dungeons. The two thin blankets she had did not keep her warm enough and the pillow was too soft for her comfort. Hermione hated it. 

“Hermione Granger is dead… you called me Ms. Granger… Draco called me Granger. I’m not Granger.” 

“Yes, she is dead.” Narcissa agreed. “You are not Hermione Granger.” 

“I don’t want to be her. I don’t want to be the mud-blood.” 

“So then you won’t be.” her voice was adamant. “But nobody can know, not yet. In time, we will fix past mistakes. In time all will be as it should have been.” 

“When?” she looked up at the older witch. 

“Soon.” the Malfoy matriarch breathed. “You will be out of here soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only one chance, Hermione and Draco travel back to 1973 with the intent to kill Voldemort. However, with Hermione's newfound heritage and still struggling from the war, she's gone down a dark path, and it may be too late for her to be saved. How can she save the wizarding world when she can barely hold on to herself?

**Chapter 2:**

Narcissa was right, but it was completely coincidental. Hermione was out of St. Mungo’s only three hours later after Ginny and Harry arrived demanding answers as to why the blonde woman was seen leaving her room. 

“I trust her.” Hermione rolled her eyes. 

Ginny and Harry stared at her in complete and utter shock, not believing the words that had just come out of her mouth. 

“This is Narcissa  _ Malfoy _ we’re talking about!” Harry argued. 

“Yes, the Narcissa Malfoy that saved you! Or have you forgotten about that already?” 

“She only did it for her precious little  _ Draco, _ ” he sneered. “She doesn’t care about us. Especially you! You’re just a--” 

“What Harry?” she challenged him. “A Mudblood? A filthy mud-blood-” 

“Stop!” He roared. “Don’t call yourself that! You’re not yourself Hermione, you haven’t been since the war! This isn’t you!” 

“‘I’m not who you want me to be. I’ve changed Harry, we all have.” she seethed. “You just don’t like who I’ve become.” 

“Hermione-” 

“Shut up!” she screeched at Ginny. “Both of you shut up!” 

The anxiety rose in her chest as her hands began to shake. She paced back and forth, angry tears welled up in her eyes. They didn’t understand. Nobody understood and she was going to rot away in this place for the rest of her life. 

Her new prison. 

A loud crash sounded in the room but Hermione was too far gone. A red haze had clouded over her eyes and the need to feel something-- to feel anything had become too much. The need for magic, the need to escape had taken over. 

“I thought the room was warded!” Harry managed to duck just before a spell was shot at his head. 

They whipped out their wands, with the intent to subdue her only to realize they were overpowered. Her magic had been suppressed for so long that it had essentially gone into overdrive. They knew how badly they had fucked up when suddenly, Hermione disappeared, leaving a wake of destruction behind. 

“What happened!?” demeaned Healer Bradshaw, barging into the room accompanied by two Aurors. They held their wands in hand only to find a destroyed room. 

“Hermione’s gone!” Harry exclaimed, stating the obvious. “We were talking and she got really upset and the next thing we knew she was doing wandless magic.” 

“Has she ever done wandless magic before?” Healer Bradshaw gasped. It was extremely rare and most wizards and witches never were able to achieve that level of magic, more so it had never been reported in a muggle-born since… Lily Evans. She seethed at how they could allow their most high profile patient escape. 

“Never.” they breathed at the same time. Ginny and Harry shared a look, knowing nothing good would come of this. They had to find her before she had another episode. The last time they had been there to stop her but now she could be anywhere and even without her wand she was just as powerful. 

**ooOoo**

Hermione landed with a thud outside the imposing dark manor. Memories of Before flooded her mind and standing up on shaky legs, she forced herself to continue forward, walking up the steps and banging on the large brass doors. 

Malfoy Manor was just as deadly as she remembered but nonetheless beautiful. She didn’t want to believe that her mind had been corrupted with Dark Magic but she couldn’t deny the countless dark artifacts stored away within the walls. Her thirst for knowledge may have taken her too far but she didn’t regret it. 

All magic was to be utilized. Dark or light. 

It’s what She said. 

Hermione believed Her now. Magic as pure as theirs was to be utilized and not wasted like the Half-Bloods, Blood-Traitors, Mud-bloods. She closed her eyes, trying to rid her mind of those thoughts because she couldn’t afford to fall apart now. 

Suddenly the door opened.

“Draco.” she breathed as her brown eyes fluttered open. He stood at the door, his stony expression faltered for a second as he took in the hospital gown and her hair that was bushier than usual. 

“Everybody’s searching for you!” he finally hissed, pulling her inside the manor slamming the door shut behind them. “What the fuck are you doing here-”

Without thinking, she launched herself into his arms clinging onto him as if her life depended on it, them both stumbling backward. 

“Hermione!” he said incredulously, trying to unwrap her arms from around his neck. Slowly, she let go and Draco sadly sighed seeing her tear-stained cheeks. 

“They took away my wand and locked me up in that… that… horrid place!” she cried. “I’m going insane, Draco, you have to help me! Your mother said that she’d help me… please tell me that she’s here.” 

He stared at her, wanting to wipe away her tears. He never would have imagined that he’d be comforting Hermione Granger. But everything changed during the war. Alliances changed. People changed. Hermione Granger changed except… she wasn’t Hermione Granger. She never truly had been, it had all been a disguise. 

“My mother is out but should be home soon.” he sighed. “In the meantime, we can go to the sitting room and Polly can bring you a change of clothes.” 

She nodded, following him the up the grande spiral staircase across from the drawing-room. Her skin crawled and she gulped, inching closer to the blonde-haired man. 

A few minutes later, they were sitting on the velvet green couch in a moderately sized dark room. He wrapped a blanket around her shivering body and she mumbled a  _ thank you _ . 

“I thought you were in Azkaban.” she broke the silence. He glanced at her, his eyes were slightly pained at the thought of his father. “After they rescued me, I didn’t want to know what happened to you and your family. I was too afraid. I knew your father would probably go to prison but I was afraid for you.” her voice broke towards the end. “Nobody deserves to suffer. You’ve already suffered enough.” 

It was silent. Draco sipped a glass of Firewhiskey, numbly staring at the blazing flames in the fireplace. Hermione thought that he wasn’t going to respond. 

“My father deserves Azkaban,” he whispered. “I don’t regret saying that. For the crimes he committed, he should be locked up for the rest of his life.” 

“You don’t mean that.” she softly said. 

“He murdered your parents.” he scoffed. 

_ Disgusting muggles.  _

A flash of Dan and Jean Granger went through her mind. She wanted to love them but she knew she shouldn’t. 

She couldn’t. 

_ “You’ll be all better soon.” the dark witch cooed. Hermione’s head was in her lap as she stroked her curls. “I’m doing this for you, darling. You’ll thank me when those filthy muggles are out of your mind. They’ve brainwashed you, they never loved you… I love you, Lyra. That’s why I’m doing this. You’ll forgive me eventually.”  _

_ The chain was heavy and cold around her ankle. Her body spasmed every few seconds but Bellatrix held her close, not letting her out of her cold embrace.  _ _ She came down to the dungeon every day.  _ _ She was helping her, she said.  _ _ All Hermione had to do was say the word and it would all be over. She would be released and taken care of and cherished. But she refused to renounce the Grangers. She refused to take the Dark Mark. Bellatrix’s only daughter would not be a blood-traitor. She’d make sure of it and bleed her of her traitor blood until there was none left.  _

_ “P-p-please…” Hermione whimpered, sounding younger than she actually was. “Don’t hurt them. Please, I beg you--Ahhhhh!”  _ _ Hermione screamed, her back arching as her body was hit with another round of crucio. She didn’t know how long it lasted but at some point, she blacked out. When she awoke, Bellatrix was gone and Draco was there, seemingly out of place, sitting on the cement ground in his black Death Eater robes.  _

_ “M-Malfoy.” her voice shook. Tears leaked from the corner her eyes at the thought of her mother. Her muggle mother. The woman who raised her.  _

_ “She left about an hour ago,” he whispered. “You’ve been out cold since, I stopped her from going any further.”  _

_ She had been out for an hour, tortured by an insane woman who was convinced she was her daughter. She cried some more.  _

_ “She’s gonna kill my parents.” Hermione gravely whispered, knowing she could do nothing to save them.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough and broken. “You’ve been here for five days now.” _

_ It felt like months, being trapped in this prison with nothing to do but wait for the appearance of Bellatrix Lestrange who hadn’t given up on her mission to make her break.  _

_ “When my aunt tortured you the first time, an extensive glamour charm that had been placed on you dropped. It was after Potter and Weasley escaped and you had passed out.” he began to explain. “My aunt gave birth to a daughter on September 19th, 1979. She’s been missing for the past eighteen years. Her name was Lyra Narcissa Black.”  _

_ “Impossible.” she spit in disgust. “I’m a muggle-born. My name is Hermione Granger. My parents are Dan and Jean Granger. I was born in North London on September 19, 1979, and found out I was a witch when I was eleven years old.”  _

_ “Hermione-”  _

_ “You’re mistaken.” her voice was low, not wanting to believe what he was saying.  _

_ “My cousin went missing on September 19, 1979. She was only four days old.”  _ _   
_ _ Hermione paused. She knew it was true.  _

_ He gave her a mirror.  _

_ Her brown hair was a shade darker, almost black, and her skin had faired considerably. The only thing that remained the same was her eyes. She still had her chocolate brown eyes.  _

_ “You have to protect my parents,” she whispered in defeat. “Bellatrix isn’t going to let me go. Promise me you’ll protect them.”  _

_ Draco said nothing, staring at her as if she wasn’t even their. “They’re already dead.” was all he could say.  _

_ She placed her hand on her churning stomach and mind went fuzzy as unintelligible words poured out of her mouth.  _

_ “They were killed four days ago.”  _

_ “No…” it was as if a cold bucket of water had been dumped over her body. She laid on the thin mattress, trying to inhale. Sobs wracked her body and suddenly she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Hermione threw up, fading into the darkness.  _

**ooOoo**

“I assumed you would be here.” Narcissa hurried into the room, carrying a small green pouch. Lines of worry marred her forehead yet she didn’t appear to be anything but calm. “I heard you escaped but wasn’t sure if you would come here or not.” 

“Mother.” Draco automatically stood up, offering her his seat beside Hermione. Draco sat across from them in the reclining chair, curiously glancing at the pouch. 

“You’ve changed.” she approvingly looked over Hermione dressed in a midnight black form-fitting robe. “I had an outfit prepared just in case but it appears you were in good hands.” she nodded at her son. 

“I thought I would be afraid of being here again but I’ve been fine. She didn’t want to hurt me but it had to be done, I understand that now,” said Hermione. 

Draco looked ready to interject but was quickly silenced by his mother. An uncomfortable feeling sunk to the bottom of both their stomachs. She sounded just like Bellatrix when she talked about blood-traitors, mud-bloods, and half-bloods. Her sister had won in the end even though she was dead. 

But it could all be changed. Her niece deserved a happier future. She soon deserved to be free from the darkness that had consumed their family. 

“Of course, dear.” Narcissa patted her knee in what was meant as a comforting gesture. 

“What’s in the pouch, mother?” Draco impatiently bounced his leg. “I don’t mind the small talk but the Aurors are probably on there way. This is one of the first places they’d look for Hermione.” 

Narcissa glanced at the both of them before opening it up and pulling out an intricate necklace… wait no… a time turner. 

“Mother…” his eyes widened at the sight of the Malfoy Family time- turner, that had been hidden away in the family vault for centuries, never having been used since the Middle Ages. 

“That’s a time-turner!” Hermione eagerly exclaimed, cradling the small golden chain in her hand. “I used one in third year to take extra classes. Of course, I had to give up at the end of the year but it was the most bloody useful object.” 

Draco couldn’t help but smirk. He had begun to miss the bookworm. Perhaps she wasn’t too far gone. 

Narcissa nodded, taking the time-turner back and handing it to Draco to see. “This is not the life I wished for either of you. Our lives have been tainted with darkness and neither of you had the childhood you deserved.” she smiled sadly. “There is so much I wish I could do-over. So much I wish I could change… your father.” she turned to Draco. “He was once a good man. You have to understand that, my son. We can change everything, make our lives right.” 

“I would never be marked.” he unconsciously rubbed his left arm. 

“I would grow up with Bellatrix…”  _ her mother.  _ “I wouldn’t be bullied in school. They wouldn’t call me mudblood.” 

Draco couldn’t help but wince, knowing it had been mostly instigated by him and his prejudiced views. 

“Precisely.” 

“This has been your plan along.” Draco slowly began to realize. 

“Yes,” she softly said. “A trail of damage has been left in that madman’s wake but it could all be avoided with just one simple action.” 

“You want us to kill him,” whispered Hermione in a brief moment of sanity. 

Draco had gone white, staring at his mother as if she had two heads. He thought he was done with the man. He never wanted to deal with him again and now his mother wanted them to go back in time to murder one of the most powerful wizards in the world? 

“I understand what you must be thinking but I wouldn’t trust anyone else but the two of you.” her voice grew graver. 

“What time are we going back too?” Draco asked, making up his mind on the spot. He would make up for his sins if it was the last thing he did. He sat up, back ramrod straight, knowing of his new duty. Glancing at Hermione who was just as serious, he grew worried for her. She was so unpredictable nowadays and if anyone found out they were from the future, everything would be ruined. 

“Nineteen seventy- three.” relief flooded her face at the confirmation. “Your father and I were in our seventh year. We were married in September shortly after and that’s when he became a Death Eater.” 

“So we have three months to kill the Dark Lord?” Draco said incredulously. 

“No.” she quickly said. “You have until October 31st, 1981.” 

“Seven years...” his mouth fell open. 

“That was the Dark Lord’s first fall.” Hermione realized. “Harry’s parent's death.” 

“Yes.” her lips pressed into a thin line. “You must kill him before then. He can not be allowed to rise a second time or else we’re back at where we started.” 

**ooOoo**

“What’s our story?” Hermione fidgeted, beside the woman. She had always thirsted after knowledge and knew the task she and Draco were about to complete was a matter of life and death. Not only theirs but everyone around them. She didn’t want to screw this up, nothing had been going right in her life. 

“The most believable story is that the two of you are pureblood siblings,” Narcissa spoke confidently. “You’ve just moved back to the UK from France after the death of your father, Leopold Rosier-” 

“Grand-uncle Leo?” Draco sat up in surprise. “That’s when he died-- 1973,” he said, thinking back through the entire Rosier family tree, he had been forced to memorize when he was younger.

Narcissa Malfoy nodded. Turning to Hermione she explained, “My uncle Leo was the oldest, then came Evander, and then my mother, Druella. As most purebloods, he was married right out of school. He wedded Athena Yaxley, the twin sister of Lysandra Yaxley. She ended up marrying Arcturus Black II.”

“What happened to them?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask, her inquisitive nature getting the better of her. 

“He and Athena Yaxley moved to the Rosier summer estate in the south of France, near Nice. Soon after she became pregnant with twins, a girl, and a boy, but died during childbirth. My uncle ended up raising them, sending his son to Durmstrang, and keeping his daughter at home. He kept his daughter hidden, afraid of the dangers the outside world could do to her.” 

Hermione couldn’t help but glower at the sexist attitude. Allow the son to get an education but not the daughter?  _ Pathetic.  _

“Wards would also recognize us because of our Rosier blood through our grandmother.” Draco thought out loud. 

“Exactly, my parents will take you in.” 

“You want us to become them,” stated Hermione still in shock. “Won’t people be suspicious if Draco looks nothing like the son? What will happen if the children find out and expose us?” 

“They’re all dead.” sighed Narcissa. “They died together in a tragic incident, nobody quite knows what happened. As well as your appearances, from the few images I’ve seen, the both of you look eerily similar. My uncle as well as my mother had blonde hair and Lysandra Yaxley had dark hair the same as yours. I doubt they’d question that.” she brushed off the question. 

“I don’t know any pureblood traditions or the etiquette.” Hermione nervously sucked on her bottom lip, thinking of every single way this could go wrong. “They’ll see right through me.” 

It’s all because she grew up with those _filthy muggles. Her life had been tainted by filth._ Hermione shook her head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts, missing the worried look Draco shared with his mother. 

“Just stay by my son and let him do the talking,” she said. “The Rosiers are a very traditional old family, much more traditional than the Malfoys or even the Blacks. It was common for only the males to attend school while the females were homeschooled.” 

“That’s so sexist!” Hermione exclaimed, her face turning bright red. “You expect me to just sit by and act pretty?” 

“It’s what’s expected.” Draco rolled his eyes at her melodramatics. “We’ll excuse your lack of manners and…  _ emotional outbursts  _ for Insaniam Convertunt.” 

“Insanity.” she balked, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“You were committed--” 

“That doesn’t make me insane!” she growled, looking eerily like her mother. 

“Children!” Narcissa raised her voice, breaking apart their argument. They mumbled a reluctant apology, quieting down. She turned to Hermione and said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with my son. Before you argue, Insanium Convertunt is common amongst female pure-bloods. Yes, it’s sexist but it also had to with the disease. Most girls received proper care from a young age, so the illness wouldn’t progress to when you were older. Because nowadays, we have more advanced medicine, the condition can be controlled and girls can go away to school. ”

_ But not a lot do.  _ Hermione thought. She remembered finding it odd why there seemed to be more pureblood boys than girls at Hogwarts. 

“My mother.” Hermione simply said. 

The older witch sadly nodded her head, thinking of her sister. “She could not be helped… sometimes the disease was untreatable. My mother believed because she was never affected that Bellatrix and I wouldn’t be. She sent us away to school and while I faired well, my sister did not. By the time my mother recognized the signs in Bella, it was too late to treat.” 

Hermione couldn’t argue with logic. She had always been very opinionated, not liking when things didn’t go her way. She had never been a violent person but when she was angry… she was deadly. But ever since the war-- ever since Bellatrix, something had been unleashed in her and it was becoming harder to control. 

“What makes you think, I can be helped?” Hermoine gulped. “I haven’t been treated for it. I grew up with  _ muggles, _ ” she sneered the word. “I’m as good as gone right?” 

“Insanium Convertunt progresses in everyone differently. It took over my sister very quickly but you’ve managed well so far. With the proper treatment, I believe you can hold on for the next several years.”

“I’ll be by your side the entire time as well.” Draco stared at her through glassy eyes. “I won’t let you lose yourself.” 

**ooOoo**

Angry knocks sounded from up above. 

The Aurors were finally here. 

Draco, Hermione, and Narcissa were huddled in the dungeons. Hermione found herself pressed against Draco, trembling at the memories of the blood. The smell of death. The screams. Hermione thought she was fine. 

She was wrong. 

“You have to concentrate,” Draco took her face in his hands, kneeling beside her. “I’m here with you, Granger. You’re not alone.” 

_ “Black.”  _ she tugged at the ends of her hair. “My name is Black.” 

“Yes, your name is Black.” he tried to calm her. “But we can’t afford to fall apart right now. The Aurors will find us and take you away, you don’t want that to happen, do you?” 

“No.” she gulped. Hermione wouldn’t allow them to take her back to that prison. Draco counted with her as her heartbeat slowed and mind cleared. 

They were going to take down the Dark Lord. They were going to do it from his inner circle. They were going to change the world. Hermione flattened her hands against her knees, taking deep breathes. Draco was right. Now was not the time to panic. 

“The house-elves can only hold back the Aurors for so long.” Narcissa finally spoke, staring lovingly at her son, knowing this would be the last time she’d see him. 

Draco stood up and hugged his mother as tight as he could. He’d never been a very emotional person, always having learned to hide his feelings. But at that moment, he yearned for his mother’s love. He had been an awful son and she deserved so much more. That’s why he was doing this. To give back to his mother the life she deserved. 

“I love you, Draco.” her voice faltered. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead, tears filling in her eyes. “You will do great things.” 

She beckoned toward Hermione, taking her in her arms as well. Hermione allowed herself to relax for just a moment, unable to remember the last time she had been held like this. 

“You are stronger than you believe. There’s a reason you were named the brightest witch.” Narcissa cupped her cheeks in the palm of her hands. “I want you to trust in yourself as much I trust in you.” 

She pulled the time-turner out of the pouch, placing it over Hermione’s head. It hung low on her neck, the metal cold against her skin. Draco took her hand, squeezing hers in reassurance.  “All you have to do is turn the time-turner back seven times to the left and seven times to the right. I do not know where you will be transported but where ever you arrive, you’ll have to find my parents. Whenever a relative arrives in the UK, their magic can be felt throughout the family. They’ll immediately know that you’re related.” she said. “I devised this plan in my sixth year when Bella became a Death Eater. You will tell me the truth of your true identities, and only me. I will help you the best I can.” 

They nodded, filing the information away at the back of their minds, the whole situation becoming more real. She thought about what it would be like to see Narcissa as a child, just as regal, but not as the parental figure she had come to view her as. 

“Your name is Lyra,” she hurried to explain as the knocks from up above became more frantic. “It’s a common family name having been used hundreds of times and Draco, your name is Leopold II. Your birthdays are November 17, 1955.” 

A loud bang sounded and voices became louder. 

They were out of time. 

The three of them exchanged one last longing look before she spun the dial. Draco and her, held onto each other as a sudden blur of colors consumed their vision, and they were swept off their feet and drifted away into the oblivion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you to everyone who commented, kudos, and bookmarked! This story is dark and takes place post-war and in the past. This is NOT the canon Hermione and Draco, I want to be clear right now. There will be a major character death, scenes of torture, sexual content, and PTSD. If you do not feel comfortable reading than I suggest you turn away. This is going to be posted on AO3 for now and later I may post it to my account on fanfic.net: Readqueen15.
> 
> I also love reviews and will update more frequently, the more you do!
> 
> AU- Harry Potter fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only one chance, Hermione and Draco travel back to 1973 with the intent to kill Voldemort. However, with Hermione's newfound heritage and still struggling from the war, she's gone down a dark path, and it may be too late for her to be saved. How can she save the wizarding world when she can barely hold on to herself?

**Chapter 3:**

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself sprawled out on the fresh dew grass, the sky above her a pinkish-orange as the sun rose. Chirps sounded in the distance and pushing herself up, she looked around to see they had landed in a field with not another soul in sight. 

To her left, Draco groaned, slowly waking up. His grey eyes shimmered in confusion before remembering what happened. He grumbled upon seeing they had landed in the middle of nowhere. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

She nodded her head and stood up, brushing the dirt off her fine robes. “Where do you think we are?” 

“I don’t know.” he shrugged, following suit. “We could be in France… I’ve only been to the Rosier estate once and it was right on the ocean so I don’t think this is it. We could be at another house in France. I know our grand-uncle Evander had a villa in Annecy. I never went though.” 

She pursed her lips, perplexed with what to do. They could begin walking to find the nearest town but that would take hours by the looks of it. They had to have landed here for a reason.  _ But why? _ Her eyes scanned the land before pausing, suddenly seeing what they had missed. 

“Genius,” she muttered. 

“What?” he cocked his head confused, looking in the same direction but seeing nothing. Pulling out his wand, he followed her as she walked straight ahead, reaching out her hand. With just the touch of her fingertip, a blue shimmer erupted into a large-sized dome that could fit an entire village. 

“Protective Charms.” the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. “The entire house is under a disillusionment charm. Only people blood related can go through.” 

She stuck her hand out further as it disappeared into the dome. A cold feeling washed over her body as the magic accepted her as its own. Turning to Draco she said, “I think I know where we are.” 

Draco yanked her back, pushing her behind him. “We have no idea what’s on the other side,” he said. “We should think this through first.” 

Hermione gave an unladylike snort, shaking her head in disbelief. “You have a wand, Draco and I can do wandless magic. I think we’ll be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?” 

That was always the dreaded question because something worse always did seem to happen. Draco didn’t even know where to start but he knew there was no point in arguing with her. She would get her way eventually. 

“Just stay behind me.” he gritted his teeth together. “I have a wand that’s a lot more reliable than your wandless magic.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, biting back her retort but listened to him nonetheless. Draco was wearing matching black robes and looked slightly more put together than Hermione and her frizzy hair. 

She hid the time turner in her pocket and taking a deep breath followed Draco through the magical veil. Holding his wand out the feeling of magic wrapped itself around them in a warm hug. Once through, they stood in front of a castle that seemed to be from at least the 17th century. Alone in the middle of the field with mountains in the distance, vines climbed up the red brick. A moderately sized garden was planted outside that curved around the stone pathway. It was much brighter than Malfoy manor, she noted. The flowers were actually blooming and there was an energized feeling to the environment. It wasn’t dark and gloomy like they were used to. But something still wasn’t right, they just didn’t know what. 

“Stay behind me,” Draco whispered to Hermione. Still holding his wand they began the journey down the path to the front door. It was simply designed, not like Malfoy manor. But sometimes simple was better. 

They were halfway there when suddenly a voice rang out through the air. Two men stepped out of the castle with their wands pointed toward the both of them. Draco faltered for a moment before lowering his wand in surrender. 

“Draco!” she hissed as they came closer. 

“That’s our grand-uncle Evander.” he nodded toward the shorter man on the left with curly blonde hair, grey eyes, and just the beginning of a beard. “He won’t hurt us.” 

Hermione wasn’t too sure about that by the suspicious gleam in his eyes. Next to him on the right, the man’s mouth dropped slightly open but the guarded look on his face still remained. 

Stiffening, Draco placed his hand on the small of her back. The men stopped a few feet away from them, their wands still raised. 

“State your names,” Evander growled. 

His eyes lingered on Hermione a few minutes longer than Draco making her skin crawl. However, she stayed silent as Draco introduced both of them by their new names. “It’s I, Leopold Rosier II, Uncle.” he bowed his head to both of the men, never taking his eyes off the wand. 

He turned to Hermione as she stepped forward, going down into a deep curtsy, just as her mother had explained to her to do so many months ago. 

_ Ladies don’t bow. It’s unbecoming.  _ The voice echoed at the back of her mind. 

“My sister…” Draco said as she stepped back beside him. “Lyra Rosier.” 

The man next to Evander looked as if he wanted to speak but didn’t know where to begin. His blonde hair was smoothed back and brown eyes stared hard at the both of them. Both of the men were muscular and lean. Evander had the same pale skin and pointed face as Draco while the other man shared the same eyes as Hermione. 

_ He must be related.  _ She thought. There were too many similarities. 

“What was the nickname of your father’s and mine house-elf?” Evander demanded. 

“Ducky.” Draco immediately responded. “Your house-elf squeaked like a duck whenever she talked so the both of you came up with that name.” 

It was something only the two brothers would know. They came up with it when they were just children, never having told anyone else. At least that’s what he thought. He froze, lowering his wand a few seconds later and the man beside him did the same. 

“You speak the truth,” Evander whispered. The men bowed back, tucking their wands up their sleeves. 

“We didn’t think there were any survivors.” the man on the right breathed. For a brief moment, his composure wavered as he stared at the two children in front of him. 

Draco stiffly nodded, a frown appearing on his face. It wasn’t hard to appear sad because in a way they had lost their family. They had lost their friends. They had lost more than anyone else combined. It was far too easy for them to grieve. 

“We managed to escape but couldn’t save our father.” Draco hung his head. “He urged us to run and for me to protect Lyra. She lost her wand a while back and had no way of protecting herself.” 

“Yes,” the unknown man sighed. “Leo was always far too selfless. The both of you were his pride and joy, especially after my sister died. Don’t hang your head, his time was coming soon. His heart was old and weak, there was nothing more we could do.” 

_ That’s who he was.  _ The lightbulb went off in her mind. Lysandra Yaxley’s youngest brother, Terrance; their grand-uncle… well technically  _ uncle  _ now. 

“Why don’t we talk inside?” Evander suggested. “Your aunt Druella and uncle Cygnus have just flooed in as well. We can talk over tea and biscuits.” 

“Of course Uncle.” Draco appropriately addressed the older man. Them leading the way, Hermione and Draco trailed behind, their eyes glimmered with unspoken questions. 

**ooOoo**

Druella and Cygnus Black were just as Draco remembered… just with less grey hair and younger in appearance. 

Druella’s blonde hair was pulled back into a twist at the nape of her neck. Her milky white skin glowed. She pursed her ruby red lips at their sudden appearance and blue eyes widened. She was decked down in an emerald robe that flared out at her waist and a diamond necklace that hung around her neck. 

Cygnus Black stood beside her, curiously peering at the two young ones in front of him. His hair was a dark curly black and had similar bright blue eyes. He was dressed more conservatively in traditional black wizarding robes and the Black family crest showed proudly on his chest. 

“I haven’t seen both of you since you were born.” Druella was the first to speak. She had a deep voice much like Narcissa’s. “Your father kept both of you well hidden. I never agreed with how he went about it but he was a very stubborn man.” 

“He talked about you,” Hermione spoke softly for the first time, desperate to curb the sadness in her voice. “Our father loved you dearly, the both of you.” she turned to Evander. “I’m sure he would’ve like to see you one last time.” 

An awkward silence fell among them all. It wasn’t polite to show emotion in pureblood company. The subject was quickly changed and the six of them settled in the formal dining room. It was a large room with an old oak table. Priceless artifacts hung on the wall and a crystal chandelier up above. The walls towered around them and green curtains were pulled open that allowed the sunlight to stream in. 

Dropping two sugars into her tea, Hermione sighed deeply taking a sip. It wasn’t the same as the Firewhiskey she had become dependant on but it would do for now. 

“What happened?” Cygnus Black questioned in an uppity voice that Hermione had begun to associate with all pure-bloods. “The school year just started. I know Durmstrang wouldn’t allow you to leave so soon.” 

Having prepared a response, Draco said the closest thing to the truth much to Hermione’s rage. “Lyra,” he glanced at her beside him. “She hasn’t been feeling…  _ well.  _ I did not believe it was right to leave her alone. I was given permission to return home for a month to watch over her with my father and continue my studies from France.”

The adults all stared at Hermione in various forms of pity, unsurprised by the news. _ Insanium Convertunt.  _ It’s what they were all thinking. 

“I’m not crazy.” she broke her composure of the perfect pure-blood girl. “I do not need to be looked after. My  _ brother  _ is exaggerating.” 

Beside her, Draco placed his hand on her knee tightly squeezing, willing her to shut up before she said something she’d regret. 

“Of course, dear,” Yaxley said in a condescending tone. “We meant no offense.” 

_ Of course _ . She thought. The more she denied it the crazier she would sound. 

Biting her tongue, she shut her mouth, feeling the eyes of everyone burning her face. Draco's grip loosened but it was still warning enough not to act out again. 

“Your father made your uncle and me, your godparents so tomorrow we will leave for Black Manor.” Druella tried to calm the tension. 

“Yes ma’am,” Draco replied and took a bite of the biscuit on his plate. Hermione remained silent but gave a curt nod. This had gone easier than they thought. But troubled loomed ahead, they just didn’t know what. 

“Perhaps, Ms. Rosier would like to freshen up.” their uncle Evander’s eyes quickly brushed over her disheveled form. “Your aunt would be delighted to show you to the bathroom.” 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, knowing all too well what he was suggesting. This was a talk only for the men. 

As soon as Hermione and Druella stood up, the men followed suit. Draco pushed back her chair, ignoring her sideways glance. She followed after the older witch in reluctance, silently rolling her eyes at the misogynistic views of pure-blood men. 

**ooOoo**

“When was the last time you were in a witch’s care?” 

Hermione shrugged her shoulders earning a disapproving glance from her new aunt. She sat in front of a vanity mirror wearing a silk white robe. Hermione had just soaked in the clawfoot tub for about an hour with the help of Tipsy, one of the Rosier’s many house-elves. Now, her aunt was trying to contain her wild curls, using any hair charms she could think of. 

“Young ladies do not shrug.” she clicked her tongue. 

Hermione winced, as she tugged on her hair and mumbled an apology. 

Her aunt only shook her head in disappointment. “Young ladies do not slouch and they most certainly do not mumble.” 

She pressed her hand in between her shoulder blades and with a gasp, Hermione sat up, her back ramrod straight. Her cheeks blushed pink and finally, her aunt found a spell that worked, and her hair formed into soft ringlets that cascade down her back. 

“Your hair is just like my daughter, Bella’s,” she said. “Only much more difficult.” 

Hermione’s heart lurched at the sound of her mother’s name. It would be difficult, she knew, to see her mother again. The little time they’d known each other had not been pleasant but in a sick way, she had come to miss her. Now they were around the same age, only a few years apart. She wondered if they looked alike. Would she be suspicious?

“You are in the care of the House of Black, now. My brother had good intentions but when it comes to a witch’s care and proper upbringing, he didn’t have a clue. I will teach you everything you need to know. You needn’t suffer any longer.” 

“Thank you.” Hermione gulped. “This is very kind of you.”

“Do not fret, my dear,” Aunt Druella’s hands rested on her shoulders, staring at the newly formed version of herself in the mirror. “All shall be well now. You’ll have proper gowns and exquisite food-” 

“I’ll be allowed to go to school?” she perked up. 

Druella chided her for interrupting but answered nonetheless. “You will be homeschooled for now. You will have unlimited access to our personal Healers and until we are sure you are in a more stable place, then the topic of school may be approached again.” 

Hermione frowned, ignoring the scolding look from Druella. “Will I at least get to replace my wand?” 

“We will be replacing your wand tomorrow at Ollivanders.” she nodded her head. “There is no reason a capable witch such as yourself shouldn’t have the one.” 

She internally squealed as the neutral expression remained on her face. “Thank you.” she breathed. 

Druella Black curtly nodded her head, ushering her out the seat and over to the four-poster bed situated in the middle of the room. She sat down on the acromantula silky soft white sheets, sinking down into the mattress. 

Druella ordered Tipsy to the room, the house-elf arriving in less than a second. She bowed so low that her nose touched the rug, asking how she could serve the young missus. 

“Dress her in an evening robe and fetch me when done.” 

She commanded Tipsy, barely glancing at the creature. 

“I assume the men are almost done with their talk,” she addressed Hermione. “They've been without the presence of a woman for too long. It’s time we make a reappearance.” 

**ooOoo**

“Miss Rosier,” the men addressed Hermione as they rose from their seats. She stood beside Druella, trying but desperately failing to appear just as regal. 

They had retired to the formal sitting room, deep in conversation as the two women entered. The talking ceased as it was not a suitable discussion for ladies. Hermione internally seethed, fed up with the apparent sexism. 

“Sister.” Draco nodded his head at her. The lie fell from his lips so naturally as she stood stiffly, examining each person in the room. 

Her eyes fell on his ash stricken face. “Brother,” she spoke. 

He held out a hand, beckoning her to sit beside him on the green velvet couch. She accepted his offer and strode across the decadent room. She sat on the edge, the cushions dipping in around her. 

She discreetly observed the older witch, sitting next to her husband on the other side of the old oak table, copying her movements. Hermione sat up-- her back ramrod straight, folded her hands in her lap and ankles crossed. 

Druella regarded her in silent approval. She had always been a quick learner and she’d have to adjust to pureblood society if she wanted to survive in this world. 

“We were just discussing your  _ circumstances _ ,” Cygnus turned to Hermione, emphasizing the last word. 

She could hear Draco’s heart pounding against his chest as a vein just about popped out of his neck. Her shoulders tensed and eyes narrowed dangerously at the older Black. “What is it are you trying to say,  _ uncle?”  _ she spit at him. 

Cygnus delicately rose an eyebrow while Druella was just about scandalized by her attitude. The two other men stayed silent, eagerly waiting to see how this would play out. 

Nobody spoke back to Cygnus Black. 

This is what Draco had warned her about. 

“Now listen to me girl.” his voice was rough and low. “Your father may have allowed for this attitude but I will stand no disrespect. We do things very differently in my household and if you can not abide by my rules then you’ll find yourself in a very unpleasant situation.” 

She held his gaze, him daring her to say something more. Hermione was not one to stand down. She did not give up so easily. 

But this was a fight she was not mean to win. 

“I apologize for my insolence.” her voice was cold. “Please find it in your heart to forgive me.” 

He eyed her for a minute, his expression unreadable. “Tips--!” 

“Uncle!” Draco spoke up before he could call for the elf. “You know Lyra is not well--” 

“Quiet down boy!” he glared at Draco. “I very well know the effects of Insaniam Convertunt. You can only curb it with a harsh hand.” 

He treated her like a child. A commoner… a mudblood. Her face burned red in anger. She wanted to lash out anything she could reach. But they had a mission. They were going to defeat the Dark Lord. Hermione couldn’t afford to lose herself now. 

“It’s alright, brother.” she found her voice. She hung her head, feigning shame at her behavior.  Draco turned to her, startled by the sudden change in attitude. 

“May I be excused, Uncle?” she politely addressed the head of the family. 

He pursed his lips regarding her suspiciously before nodding his head. “Go to your room. I’ll be there shortly.” 

She hid her shaking hands behind her back, ignoring the stressed look of the blonde-haired boy beside her. They all had roles to play. She had dug on her own grave and now she had to lay in it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you to everyone who commented, kudos, and bookmarked! This story is dark and takes place post-war and in the past. This is NOT the canon Hermione and Draco, I want to be clear right now. There will be a major character death, scenes of torture, sexual content, and PTSD. If you do not feel comfortable reading then I suggest you turn away. 
> 
> I will try to update again soon! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!
> 
> I also love reviews and will update more frequently, the more you do!
> 
> AU- Harry Potter fic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only one chance, Hermione and Draco travel back to 1973 with the intent to kill Voldemort. However, with Hermione's newfound heritage and still struggling from the war, she's gone down a dark path, and it may be too late for her to be saved. How can she save the wizarding world when she can barely hold on to herself?

**Chapter 3:**

The door slammed shut echoing throughout the room. His silence was as loud as a Mandrake. 

Hermione sat at the edge of the bed, staring out the window at the ocean blue sky. Her chest rose up and down, her heartbeat just a bit faster. She knew he was there. 

Yet she said nothing. 

He would come to her. 

She was right. 

“Turn around.” his voice was firm. 

She did as he bid. Standing up, she walked across the carpeted ground, now just a few feet away from him. She squared her shoulders, refusing to slouch, hoping it would make her appear stronger. 

“You remind me of my middle daughter,” he said. “Bellatrix… she has a lot of fire. A lot of drive. The two of you even resemble each other.” 

Hermione’s eyes burned though no tears fell. She kept her hands clasped in front of her and nodded her head. The corner of her lips turned up just the tiniest bit. 

“You both have the same temper. Merlin, I’ve had to deal with her more times than I can count. She’s prone to violent outbursts. Often targeted at her enemies--” 

“Mudbloods.” Hermione glowered. 

His eyes roamed over her face, searching for what? She didn’t know. Hermione wore a mask of indifference, refusing to show him what he wanted. She would be left weak and vulnerable and that would not do. 

“Yes… ” he hummed after a minute. “And blood traitors and half-bloods. She does not take well to orders--” 

_Except from the Dark Lord._

“-- Or those who contradict her.” he finished. “But she’s a talented witch nonetheless and just as pure as you. I have no doubt of your powers, Miss Rosier.” 

The voice in her head cackled loud and angry. He had no idea how right he was. 

“You don’t even know me.” she delicately rose an eyebrow. 

“I know enough to know that the incident at your home was not an accident. Your father was never one to ask for help but it’s clear now, he really should’ve sought it out.” 

Her heart almost stopped right there. Slowly glancing up at his face, his glare was hard and unforgiving. The way he positioned his body, as if he were going to battle, raised enough alarms in her mind. 

_Feel the pain. Consume the magic. Don’t cry… just feel._

A pounding ache at the back of her skull made its way to the front of her head. Her eyebrows creased and she bit her tongue, stopping herself from moaning in pain. 

_Feel the pain._

The tips of her fingers tingled with renewed energy. 

_Control._

That’s what she needed more of. 

_Control._

Lyra Rosier hadn’t had control when her magic grew strong.

_Consume the magic._

She unleashed her power, showing everyone her true potential. She was more than a pretty face. 

_Don’t cry… just feel._

Her brother and father were obliterated by her hand. She may have felt… but it was too late. The deed was done. 

_Bellatrix scowled, her lips twisted into the perfect sneer._

_Feel the pain._

Oh, she had felt it. 

_“CRUCIO!”_

_Her back arched and her body contorted into an unnatural form. A guttural cry rose from her chest. Her mother stood over her with a crazed look in her eyes._

_“CONSUME THE MAGIC!”_

_Hermione could not consume the magic._

_She cried._

_Blood rain from her nose._

_She failed._

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her voice shook. Hermione faced him, talking as if there hadn’t just been a storm inside her head. The dull ache lingered as if they were light knocks on a front door. 

“Of course you don’t.” his voice was bored. “Has anyone told you you are a horrid liar?” 

She shrugged, her eyes wandered around the room. Her mother had never been good at lying. 

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.   
“It’s best we get this over with.” she took a step towards him. “If I’m correct, you didn't come here to chitchat.” 

He nodded his head and a slight sneer spread across his face. A sudden stream of light shot out from the end of his wand, hitting her body. She immediately brought up her mental barriers, knowing he would try to pry into her mind. The Blacks were famous for performing legilimens. She supposed she should be grateful to Snape for teaching her Occlumency.

Hermione fell to a thud on the carpet, her insides churned as the unforgivable lingered. 

_Feel the pain._

She focused on the curse. 

_Consume your magic._

Her magic wrapped like a warm blanket around his curse. Her chest burned as colors swirled around in front of her eyes in a constant struggle for power. They leaped and pounced and twirled in the air, becoming one. The pain lessened, allowing her to breathe. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes.

The elder Black nearly dropped his wand. 

“What is the meaning of this!” 

Her body twitched from the aftermath. She sat up wheezing but faced him nonetheless and her lips turned up into a cruel smile. She smirked at him, “Is that… the… best you… can do?” 

* * *

  
“You idiot!” 

“Hello to you too.” Hermione rolled her eyes. 

Draco barged into her room, hissing insults. It had been about an hour and her body was still suffering the aftermath of the curse. Tipsy had been ordered not to treat her but she had managed to drag herself to the bed. 

That’s how Draco found her-- half asleep.

“You can never keep your mouth shut, can you!” 

_No, she couldn’t_. That’s what everybody seemed to hate about her. She was an insufferable know it all. 

“He was planning to let you attend Hogwarts.” he huffed. “I’m going to transfer from Durmstrang and we would’ve been together every day. It took me an hour and a half just to convince him and then you went and screwed it all up!” he ran his fingers through his pale blonde hair, collapsing beside her on the mattress. 

She had nothing to say, knowing he was right. This could prove to be a major problem if they weren’t even with each other for half the year. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His eyes widened. 

She never apologized for anything. She felt his gaze on her ash stricken face, her body still slightly shaking from the curse. 

“We need to figure out a new plan. If I’m going to be at Hogwarts and in Slytherin, I can get close with some of his going-to-be recruits,” he said. “If you’re going to be at Black Manor, you should try to get close with Bellatrix, perhaps meet some of her friends?” 

Hermione snorted. _Friends?_ Her mother didn’t have any friends, only allies and enemies. She doubted that the older witch would just let anyone join her little circle, even if they were supposedly cousins. 

She fucking killed Sirius without a second glance. 

What would she do to her? 

“Granger--” 

“Black.” she reminded him for the hundredth time. “I’m no longer Granger.” 

“Black,” he huffed. “All you have to do is try and talk with her. From the stories my mother told me, she did have quite a few friends in her younger years. She was almost sane.” 

“She can sniff out Blood Traitors and Mudbloods from a mile away. She’ll see right through us--” 

“Not if we can convince her otherwise. All we have to do is stick to our plan and work together. We can’t be doing our own thing. That’s when mistakes happen.” 

She knew he was right. They were only in this position because of her but Draco was polite enough not to place all the blame on her. 

“I can do that,” she said sincerely. 

He gave a curt nod, both of them falling into a comfortable silence. This would be the last time they’d be together for a while. He’d be off to Hogwarts soon and her, locked up in the manor. 

“How are you feeling?” 

His voice was so quiet that she almost missed what he asked. She glanced at him only for him to look away. His cheeks blushed pink. 

“Worried.” she gnawed on her bottom lip. Casting Muffliato around them she said, “Cygnus believes Lyra killed her father. He hinted his suspicions while we were talking.” 

His grey eyes narrowed. “Shit,” he mumbled, groaning into his hands. “In the original timeline when the three of them died, no bodies were ever found. The house was too badly destroyed but her magical signature was all over the house.” 

“How do you know about all of this?” 

“Every pureblood knows the story of the Rosiers.” he shrugged. “They’re infamous.” 

Hermione scowled. She knew absolutely everything and had never heard of the Rosier story before Narcissa. 

“If the bodies were never found then how do we know that they didn’t survive? How do we know that Lyra didn’t escape?” 

“We don’t.” 

She gulped, eyes widening slightly. “What happens if she comes back? Or Cygnus reports me to the Aurors?” 

Draco immediately shook his head, tugging fretfully at the ends of his hair. “We’ll deal with Lyra if she happens to come back and as for Cygnus, he wouldn’t report you to the Aurors. The Black family name would be stained by the controversy. Typically in pureblood families, when incidents like those happen, it’s brushed to the side. He doesn’t want any negative attention and will do everything he can to make sure no one else finds out.” 

Hermione supposed that should’ve made her feel better but it just left her with more questions. Cygnus Black didn’t seem like the type of person who just let things go. He took pride in his family, more importantly, their image of a united pureblood front. If Hermione posed any threat, she had no doubt he’d try to silence her. 

“You’re thinking too hard about this.” sighed Draco. He rested his hand on hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. “We need to focus on the mission. That’s the most important.” 

_Yes. The mission. Stopping Voldemort. She could do it, no, she had to do it._

* * *

“Hello.” 

“Who are you?” were the first words out of her mouth.

Draco held Hermione’s hand, hiding the slight tremble. They had the same wild dark hair and dark eyes. The resemblance was uncanny. Her mother was only four years older than her. 

“Bellatrix.” her father coldly reprimanded her. 

She rolled his eyes, obviously unafraid of punishment. 

They stood at the doorway, having just arrived this morning by Floo from France. Black Manor was a lot smaller than Hermione had pictured. There were fewer rooms than Malfoy Manor but the priceless artifacts and paintings that hung on the wall would rival Draco’s home any day. 

“These are your cousins, Lyra and Leopold Rosier.” Druella addressed them. 

Hermione remained pale-faced, standing beside Draco too stiff to move. Bellatrix held her hand out, Draco kissed the back. 

She wore a long black dress, the corset obvious underneath. Her breasts jutted out and she stood tall and proud with her curls piled up top of her head. She had thin pink lips and dark eyes. She was beautiful, looking like one of those old-style Hollywood movie stars. Azkaban had done a lot of damage, she was no longer the pale-faced, madwoman she had come to know. There was still some hope to save her from that fate. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Draco’s voice was smooth, showing none of the shock she was sure he felt. 

Bellatrix made a little _hmph_ sound, her eyes lingering on him for a minute before turning to her. Hermione froze, holding her breath, sure she would see the similarities but nothing came of it. Her dark brow quirked and a little smirk played on her lips. “You look as if you’ve seen a dementor.” 

Hermione gulped. 

Cygnus’s eyes darkened and there was the faintest tick in Druella’s right eye. 

“Relax mother, father.” she drawled. “I’m just playing with cousin Lyra. After all, you said to make them feel right at home.” 

“That will be enough Bella,” Druella hissed through clenched teeth. “You may take your leave now or join us for a late breakfast. Tipsy was just about to get them settled in their new bedrooms.” 

Tipsy suddenly arrived, taking away the few bags Druella and Cygnus had. Her ears pointed to the ground, cowering in fear of the dark-haired witch. 

Her mother’s face made it clear that brunch with her new cousins and parents was the last place she wanted to be. 

“I’ll take my leave,” she twirled a curl around her finger. “I have plans to meet Antonin and Thorfinn.” 

Druella sighed, unable to hide her irritation with her eldest daughter. “You haven’t forgotten about the dress fitting today, hmm? Your engagement party is within a week.” 

Her jaw clenched and lips pressed together into a thin line. “Of course not mother. Rodolphus is not an easy man to forget. If I recall correctly, we don’t have to be at Twilfitt and Tattings for another six hours. That gives me plenty of time.” 

She didn’t want to marry Rodolphus, that much was obvious. A part of her was sickened that they still performed arranged marriages but the pureblood part was more understanding. It was needed if they wanted to maintain purity, to prevent mudbloods, halfbloods, and blood traitors from taking over and erasing wizarding culture. 

Before, when her mother wasn’t torturing her, sometimes she talked about possibly marrying her off to Draco. It was the best way to ensure their family remained pureblooded. However, her aunt refused. Inbreeding lead to disfigured and mentally unstable babies and Narcissa Malfoy wanted nothing less than perfect, which included her grandchildren. 

“Very well, dear.” she curtly responded. “Give our best to Mr. Dolohov and Mr. Rowle.” 

Hermione watched her walk out the door with the wink of her eye. Her heart fluttered once and she quickly turned away. Draco squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. Finally, Hermione was able to exhale for the first time, the weight having been lifted off her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you to everyone who commented, kudos, and bookmarked! This story is dark and takes place post-war and in the past. This is NOT the canon Hermione and Draco, I want to be clear right now. There will be a major character death, scenes of torture, sexual content, and PTSD. If you do not feel comfortable reading then I suggest you turn away.
> 
> I will try to update again soon! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!
> 
> I also love reviews and will update more frequently, the more you do!
> 
> AU- Harry Potter fic.


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